The Big Nugget of Nannine

The Big Nugget of Nannine.
By R.G.B

Christmas Eve at Nannine — a scene of mirth and joy. The streets are thronged with people passing to and fro, some merely strolling around to view the prettily decorated shop windows, whilst others accompanied their better halves in the more serious occupation of selecting all sorts of good things for the morrow’s feast. From the bars sounds of revelry burst forth, whilst Harry Eve’s piano arose to the joyous occasion and surpassed even its usual bursts of melody.

Heffernan Street, Day Dawn – Photo SLWA

The bright full moon shone forth in its fullest splendor and seemed to smile a gracious approval on the merry scene below. But not so joyous was the scene in a rugged camp on Hospital Hill. Here, two weary and despondent prospectors sat, after a hard day’s toil searching for the precious gold that ever seemed to elude their grasp. Claude Dundas was a man of about forty, with a rather small though well-proportioned physique, and notwithstanding his rough dress, his whole bearing was indicative of his having seen better days. His features, though tanned by exposure, were refined and intellectual and ill-harmonised with his present uncouth surroundings. His mate, Dave Dunlop, was a typical digger, fully six feet in height, with the strength and hardihood of a man accustomed to a rough goldfields life from his infancy. Although unable to read or write, he was an embodiment of the genuine digger’s code of honor, and would rather have lost his own life than have violated any of the unwritten laws that exist between mates on a goldfield.

To his more favored and enlightened companion, his devotion was almost dog-like in its depth and simplicity. “Well Dave,” remarked Dunlop. “We have just about come to the end of our tether. Here is Christmas Eve, and we have scarcely a bite left in the camp. Our luck is getting worse than ever.” “Never mind, Claude old fellow, I daresay there are some poor devils even worse off than we are! You take that speck we found yesterday and get some tucker. I got Jim Eves to weigh it last night. There are five weights, so we should get enough for a decent feed, anyhow with it. I will put the billy on, and get things ready while you are away!”

While Dundas went down to forage the stores for food, Dunlop spread an old Murchison Times over a beer case, and fossicked out a lump of dry bread, some raw onions, and half a bottle of ‘Lea and Perrins’, besides a couple of bunches of radishes that Dick Jose had given them that afternoon. He had scarcely boiled the billy and made some tea when Dundas reappeared, out of breath, and staggering under two ‘fifty-pound’ flour bags of provisions. “God’s truth, Claude! where did you raise that lot, have you raided Masterton’s warehouse?” was the surprised exclamation of Dunlop, on perceiving his mate. “No,” replied Dundas, “but I have fared almost as well. I went down to Williams’ store and bought enough to last us a few days, and as there were a couple of shillings left, I went across to Downies’ to get a drop of something to wash the cobwebs out of our throats. Dan was there himself, so, knowing he would never see a man stuck, I asked him to make the two bob go as far as he could. He would not hear of taking the money, but sent Bill Connaughton out to the store, and piled all these things on to me. Here’s enough to make the best Christmas dinner on earth, and last us a fortnight after, with a bottle of ‘Whyte and Mackay’ to drink to the old folks at home!” ”By Jove, Dan’s a real white man!” was Dunlop’s ejaculation. The two mates set to work on their new stock, and soon were doing ample justice to a better repast than either had tasted for many a day.

At last, after they had drunk to the health of every conceivable relation to the extent of a good half bottle, they retired to rest. Dunlop, who had eaten almost to satiety, immediately fell off to sleep, and his deep snores resounded throughout the camp. Dundas, however, could not sleep. For hours he lay thinking of the past, the scene he had witnessed down the town having awakened memories of his boyhood days, and vividly brought before him merry scenes of Christmas Eve joyously spent in his own parental home, At last, unable to shake off the melancholy spirit that these thoughts aroused, he arose and dressed. Seizing a pick and shovel, he, with an envious glance at his peacefully slumbering mate, passed out of the camp.

The two mates had previously decided to try a likely spot on the eastern slope of the Hospital Hill, a little above where Hughie Fraser and Jack Dennis were sluicing, so Dundas proceeded there and commenced digging. He had worked for about half an hour, and having completely shaken off his despondent mood, was about to return to his bunk, when his pick jarred against something hard, cracking the handle. “Just my cursed luck,” he muttered. “I was not content to lie in bed like Dave, but must come fooling here, and smash our only pick handle!” The moon shone brightly, and as he was turning away he suddenly caught a glimpse of something shining in the hole. He quickly cleared away the dirt and there lay revealed a solid nugget of gold —as much as he could lift. “Great God!” he exclaimed, “can this be real? What a ‘rise’ to make when we were so terribly hard pushed for even a meal. How poor Dave will stare when he sees it!” But almost before he had uttered the last generous thought for his mate, an evil spirit asserted itself, and he fell to thinking what an enormous fortune the nugget would be for himself alone. “What is to prevent me from hiding the gold and keeping it a secret? Dave has been used to hard work all his life, and need never know anything about the nugget.”

These thoughts, once having entered his head, he was soon completely in their power, and ere long had devised a scheme whereby he could secure the whole for himself. After having carefully hidden the precious mass, and removed all trace of his work, he took the pick and shovel and returned to camp, where he found his mate wide awake, and wondering where he had gone to. “I couldn’t sleep, so went out for a stroll” he vouchsafed, in reply to Dunlop’s remark on his absence and now that you are awake I will tell you of something that has been on my mind a good deal lately. We have been prospecting together for a good while now, and have never made a cent above bare tucker. I have been thinking it would be better for us to separate, and each go his own way. I am sick and tired of this life and am determined to clear out. There will be enough tucker left to last you several weeks, and perhaps your luck will change when I am gone!”

Poor Dunlop could scarcely realise that Dundas was in earnest, Thoughts of parting from Claude had never entered his head and would have been quite content forever in their present condition than part from his mate. He pleaded in this strain, but seeing Dundas was determined to carry out his intention, he merely said ” Well, Claude, I little thought we would part like this. We have shared our bit of tucker together for over three years now, and surely we would have struck a patch someday.” He seemed completely overcome by this sudden change in his affairs, and in silent, grief rolled up his swag without waiting for the morning or looking at the stock of provisions and strode forth into the night. Dundas felt keen remorse at seeing his mate leave in this manner, but the thoughts of his scheme for the morrow soon drove all others from his mind.

He remained quiet in his camp all Christmas day, and on the following morning unearthed the nugget from its hiding place and took it to the W.A. Bank, where it was found to weigh exactly 21.8oz. 19dwts, both Parsons and Stuart declaring it to be the cleanest and purest slug they had ever seen. News of this wonderful discovery spread like wildfire to all parts, and Dundas was soon the lion of the hour. From an unknown and insignificant dry blower, he had effloresced into a howling swell and was at once the cynosure of all eyes. At the invitation of the members of the Murchison Club, he was spending a few days in Cue before leaving on an extended tour of the Continent. One evening, whilst conversing with a group of the elite of Cue on the Club balcony, a telegram was handed to Mr. J. W. Patterson, the Editor of the ‘TIMES’, who was among the number. After glancing over it, he handed the telegram to Dundas saying “Here’s a wire from Jenkins, at Nannine, it might be of interest to you.” Dundas took the wire and read —

“Body of digger named Dave Dunlop found in bottom of old shaft Queen of Lake mine”

Evidently, a case of suicide. Dunlop was mates with Dundas, but curiously enough they parted only a couple days before big nugget was discovered by latter.” Such was the sad end of poor Dunlop’s honest and harmless life. Whilst Dundas was still in Cue, the seat for the North Murchison became vacant owing to Holman having suddenly accepted the appointment of permanent head to the newly created Department of Labor under the Illingworth Government. At the request of an influentially signed petition from the representatives of vested interests at Nannine, Peak Hill, and other centres. Dundas was nominated for the vacancy and succeeded in defeating Delroy, the Labor candidate by a small majority. Having thus secured affluence and position, the doors of society were thrown open to him, and he enjoyed himself to the top of his bent. The continual dissipation and excitement soon developed other passions latent in his nature, and ere long he had become an inveterate gambler, a frequenter of race courses and such places, and lost huge sums nightly. Before very long ugly rumours were afloat as to his honesty and straight going at cards, etc., and when he was finally “posted” for crook work at the Perth races he found himself once more a social outcast, with practically nothing but his seat in the House left.

Finding himself in such a desperate pass, he decided to make a bold dash to recover his fortune and so invested every cent, he could raise in a turquoise show at Quinns. For a time the prospects were fair, an expert from Sydney having pronounced a very favorable opinion of the find, but after a few months of dead work in prospecting, the mine appeared to be worthless. At last, on receipt of a wire from Dick Rogers, his manager, demanding money for the men’s wages, he decided to visit the mine himself. In company with Rogers, he inspected the workings all through and having returned to the surface fully convinced of its worthlessness, gave himself up to despair.

“So this is the end of all my bright dreams,” thought he. “I was raised to the highest pinnacle of hope and fortune, only to be dashed down to even greater poverty and shame than ever. Better a thousand times to have shared poor Dunlop’s fate than live for this. Why not now, indeed? I have only ruin and disgrace before me, and nothing more fitting than to end my life in this cursed hole which has given me the last stroke!” So saying, and before Rogers could utter a sound to prevent him, Dundas plunged headlong down the shaft to a horrible and certain death below.

“Good heavens, man! Whatever is the matter with you, have you gone dolly ??”

was the greeting that met the ear of Dundas. “In God’s name where am I? What has happened? ” he asked in a bewildered manner finding himself in a crouching position on the hard floor of the tent. “What happened?” replied Dunlop.” Why you have been tossing and turning and groaning for the last hour or more, and then jumped clean out of your bunk onto the ground. Are you off colour, old chap, or only been dreaming?” “Dreaming!” exclaimed Dundas. “Thank God. it is nothing worse. I never want such another dream as that in all my life. “The perspiration was pouring off his brow, and his nerves seemed strained to a frightful pitch, but with the aid of a stiff glass of whisky, he at last composed himself sufficiently to relate the whole horrid nightmare to his mate.

Dunlop was deeply affected by the narrative, and seemed greatly distressed to think his mate capable of conceiving such a horrid idea of his own manliness, even if only in a dream At the conclusion, he said: “God forbid that either of us should ever act in such a skunkish manner as that. Goodness knows what could have put such a notion into your head. It must have been that ‘sinker’ you got from the baker last night,” he added in a more cheerful tune. Sleep was out of the question, so, as daybreak was at hand, the two mates arose, and there was nothing but feelings of the deepest joy and content in their hearts, born of that perfect trust in and esteem for one another that can only be known by those who have camped together and shared each other’s fortunes, as these two mates had done — as they bade each other the compliments of the season, on that bright, fresh Christmas morn.